A disgruntled librarian packs it up and leaves fabulous New York City behind,
going on random adventures through South America,
while simultaneously promoting literacy
and spreading the love of the written word.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

a week of celebrating ourselves

only days after the bolshevik's return, we have embarked into what we now refer to as "the week of celebrating ourselves."  pretty much, every night we meet up with different groups of people in honor of us leaving and celebrate ....well ... us.  saturday night we had a big blow out party with our friends.  sunday we rested because it's god's day.  monday we packed.  tuesday i had my farewell with my writer's group.  wednesday was punk ropers and the bolshevik's drunken irish family friends.   this afternoon we meet with my bubbie, and then tonight we dine with the bolshevik's father.  then tomorrow night we have dinner with my immediate fam (mom, siblings, aunt-like cousin, ex-step-siblings, ex-step father, ex-step-father's wife ... what do you call your ex-step-father's new wife?  is she kind of like a ex-step-step mother?)  anyway, then we leave and everything can go back to normal.  phew!

so last night when we had a gentrifiers+old skool brooklyn mash up, i actually booked my first freelance writing gig!  don't get too excited.  mister fleshwound (husband of miss fifi fleshwound), commissioned me to write a piece on machu picchu.  he gave me $34 to write 20 pages in whatever style i like.  miss fifi has warned me that he is a slave driver and i should be wary of entering into an oral contract with him.  but hey, 34 american dollars is 34 american dollars.

on to more important things like buying a sunhat and convincing the bolshevik to make me pancakes ...

2 comments:

  1. Thirty-four American now...thirty-four headaches later...that's what I always say. Just you wait till he reads your 1st draft!

    We miss you already, but we can't wait to live vicariously through you the whole time your gone. Please, proceed as planned. oxxxo

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  2. i'll miss you too, lady ... and i'm shaking in my hiking boots over the thought of jj tearing my first draft to shreds ;)

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